


Mistress Moscato

by infairvorona



Category: Original Work, SOTBE - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Bartenders, F/M, Monologue, One Shot, Written for a Class, at least in this one, damiens goin back to his old job lol, yes damien used to be a bartender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22633318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infairvorona/pseuds/infairvorona
Summary: Written for class (wow!! that's new!!). Bartender!Damien dreams about his newest patron, a girl with bright blue eyes and curly hair (it's Sasha). Quick one!! Enjoy! :^)
Relationships: Bartender/Patron, Damien/Sasha, Sasha/Damien





	Mistress Moscato

The old bar was closed now. Its red leather seats emptied after a long night of drinking and other merriments.

The bartender was drying wine glasses and whiskey tumblers.

He sighed, deep and long. Every night was the same it seemed.

The deep sounds of the live music, the creaking of that old weathered mahogany bar top.

But this night was different.

Something else filled air, something sweet and floral. A woman’s perfume, he might’ve guessed, or someone’s shampoo.

He could pinpoint where it had come from.

A younger girl.

She was alone, and he made it his duty to ensure no one harassed her.

She seemed sweet, and kind, so different from some of the other patrons.

Her blue dress was a wonderful offshoot from the grey flooring, and it seemed to gleam in the dull lighting of the bar.

What had she ordered? Oh that’s right, a glass of Moscato. ‘And if you have any of those really good cherries, could you put two in the glass?’

She was cute…she was really cute.

Her curly hair had shined in what little light there was.

Her eyes were a vibrant blue, almost electric.

She had dimples when she smiled.

The bartender smiled at the thought.

He stopped cleaning his glass.

_What if she comes in again? What do I say to her? It was so easy talking to her this time…what about next time? What about the next, next time? Will there be a next time? Will there be a next, next time?_

He rubbed the cloth so hard on the glass it squeaked.

He could feel his cheeks warming up.

_Oh no._

It hit him like a ton of bricks.

All the world around him fell away, all the brick walls, the gray flooring, the leather seats. The wood didn’t creak, the floor didn’t squeak, and the lights didn’t flicker like they used to.

 _Oh no._ He thought.

He was sick.

Lovesick.

How had he fallen in love with this girl? He had barely talked to her for an hour!

But something about her was different. The curl of her hair? The brightness of her eyes? How soft she had seemed? Maybe it was those two cherries?

 _Argh!_ He just about slammed the glass on the counter.

_I don’t even know her name…_ He sighed and put the last wine glass away. _Next time she comes in... I’ll ask._

He chuckled. _One Moscato with two cherries._


End file.
